


We'll Be OK

by AuntieL



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hermione_smut, F/M, Fic Exchange, Forced Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:39:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuntieL/pseuds/AuntieL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dreaded Marriage Law. Post-Hogwarts. They haven't seen each other in a few years. Neville's still a bit bumbly and Hermone's still a bit impatient. However will they cope? (Written for Hermione_Smut, Round Five, on LiveJournal.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Be OK

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amsev](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=amsev).



> Gift For: amsev  
> Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended; all canon characters and places belong to JK Rowling.  
> Pairing: Neville/Hermione  
> Word Count: 7623  
> Warnings: None.  
> Author's Note 1: Many thanks to my beta, Jen (UnseenLibrarian).  
> Author's Note 2: The name of Hermione's uni is "Witchita". This is a play on words; it is not a misspelling.

Hermione had completed her NEWTs, and wanted to continue her education. Bemoaning the dearth of higher magical education in Britain, she went to the  _Witchita Magical Academy_  in Wichita, Kansas and did four additional years in Transfiguration and Charms. Although she adored the challenge of her studies, she missed her friends, and felt out of touch with Wizarding Britain.

<•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•>

  
Neville Longbottom has spent the past years apprenticing with Professor Sprout, choosing a career path more traditional for Wizarding Britain. Professor Sprout has just retired, leaving Neville as the Herbology professor at Hogwarts.

<•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•>

 

Cups were raised as the rowdy group of friends cheered, “Congratulations,  _Professor_  Longbottom!”

In the center of the gathering stood a tall, lanky young man, ducking his head and blushing. He was surrounded by most of his best mates as loud music blasted all around them. It was the end of August, and Neville Longbottom was having one last party with his friends before he had to go to Hogwarts to take over as the Herbology professor. 

“All right, mates, this should be my last drink; I have to be at Hogwarts before lunch tomorrow for a final meeting with Professor Sprout and to set up my quarters and my classroom.” He ended this announcement at quite a loud volume, to speak over the groans and complaints of his friends. “Oh, you’ll figure out another reason to get pissed soon enough! Quit your complaining!”

The chastisement brought back the good cheer, as his assembled friends admitted the veracity of his statement with laughter. 

His final drink drunk, Neville was shaking hands with everyone, thanking them for their well wishes. The last well-wishers of the bunch were his old dorm-mates: Seamus, Dean, Harry and Ron. 

“Hey Nev, I heard that McGonagall is finally leaving the classroom for good. D’you know who’ll be the new T-fig professor?” Ron asked.

“McGonagall’s not teaching anymore? That’d be just weird.”

“Seamus, where’ve you been? There was even a piece in the Prophet a few years ago, after her stroke, because she’d wanted to stop teaching  _then_ , but they couldn’t find anyone capable enough to teach N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration, so they hired Padma Patil to teach the O.W.L. students, and McGonagall continued teaching the N.E.W.T. students. I mean, Dumbledore managed his Headmaster duties along with being Supreme Mugwump… she’s been Headmistress and teaching N.E.W.T. students.” Harry shrugged. “Last I spoke with her, she’d had a few more complications develop from the stroke, and isn’t able to continue with that arrangement.”

“Just as well, I s’pose, what with Padma’s parents arranging that marriage contract with the wizard from India.”

“How’d you know about that, Ron? You becoming a gossiping hen, now that you’re hitched with a  _second_  sprog on the way?”

Ron glared at his best friend. “Just because I listen to my wife, doesn’t make me a gossip.”

“Of course not, unless of course  _she’s_  a gossip,” Harry said with a smirk. “Hey, do we know when Hermione’s due to arrive from the States?”

“Soon, I heard. She’s finally finished up with her ‘advanced degree’. Why the hell does she need an advanced degree, anyway?” Ron asked.

“Ron, she’s explained this to you several times. Please don’t ask her again. It won’t go well.”

“I know, I know. It’s just –”

“It’s just that Wizarding Britain is far behind the rest of the modern world in terms of magical education, and unwilling to adopt a new paradigm and the benefits it would introduce to the culture.”

“Wow, Harry. You sound  _just_  like Hermione!”

Harry’s only reply to his best mate was to scowl, but he couldn’t hold it long, and soon joined in with everyone’s laughter.

When the laughter died down, Ron looked at his watch, noting the time. “I really have to get home. Lavender wasn’t feeling very well when I left, and I don’t want to leave her alone for too long right now.”

The rowdy bunch started to take the mickey out of him – loudly – but he just smiled, shouting good-naturedly over the din, “Oi! My pregnant wife needs me! Any of you louts have a pregnant wife? No? Well, then, sod off!” 

The teasing jeers were now mixed with laughter as Ron left the group to Floo home.

As the din began to diminish, Fred turned to Harry and started pushing him toward the bar. “Go on, you cheap bastard, it’s your shout.” 

“Is not! I just picked up the round two rounds ago. It’s  _your_  shout, you  _cheap bastard_!”

“Now, is that any way to talk to your future brother-in-law?” George asked, slinging an arm around Harry’s shoulders. 

“I reckon I can talk to him any way I want – it’s nothing Ginny wouldn’t say if she were here.”

George peered around Harry at Fred. “He’s got you there, brother. Guess this round’s on you, after all.”

Fred stuck his tongue out at his twin, but counted heads before going to the bar to buy the next round. While he was gone, George turned his attention to Harry. 

“So, Harry, my boy, have you and Ginny set a date yet?”

Harry swallowed. He truly disliked discussing the wedding with any of Ginny’s brothers. It always felt awkward, and Fred and George seemed to love to make him squirm more than the others did. 

“Yeah, everything’s set – on my part, anyway. Gin and your mum have loads more plans for it than I would ever dream of.”

George laughed. “Well, yeah. Remember Bill’s wedding? By the time the day came, I’d had a nightmare that my cock had turned into a vol-au-vent!”

They shared a laugh and a shudder at the image, and then the waitress brought them their tray of drinks. 

Before anyone else could start a toast, Neville stood. “I’d like to thank you all for this lovely party. It’s been brilliant to spend my last night of relative freedom with my best mates. I won’t be as available this year as I have been in the past – there’s no one to pick up the slack for me. But, I suppose it’s for the best, since things haven’t worked out with Hannah.” He sighed, slightly saddened. “Just be sure to keep in touch; I can visit on a weekend, as long as I don’t have duties.” He hesitated, adding quietly, “Don’t forget me.” 

Fred and George looked at each other, seeming disappointed. George replied, “Aw, man, and we were just about to tease you about being  _needy_ , but now it would be just  _mean_.”

“Yeah, it’d be like kicking a puppy,” Fred added.

Harry cut them off, saying, “We’ll try to owl you. No promises about frequency, but if an event comes up, we’ll keep you in mind.”

Neville smiled. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

When all the drinks were downed and the final toast made, the small gathering of men dispersed to their own homes. 

<•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•>

 

The next morning, Neville Longbottom arrived at Hogwarts a little later than he’d planned, with a hint of a hangover. He spent the next few days organizing his office, unpacking his personal effects, and settling in to the life of a Hogwarts professor. The night before the Welcoming Feast, he sat next to the Headmistress at dinner.

“Are you settling in all right, Neville?”

“Oh, yes, Professor. I think I’m ready.”

“Neville, we are colleagues now, and as I told you yesterday, you may call me ‘Minerva’ when there aren’t any students present.” 

The young wizard blushed. “I know. It’s just… old habits die hard.”

Minerva smiled at him. “It’s all right, my boy. I remember when I first joined the staff. You’ll become accustomed to it soon enough.”

Neville looked at his plate, seeming to be deep in thought. “Pro- um… Minerva, when will the new Transfiguration professor arrive?”

“I’m sorry, Neville, I thought I’d told you. The new professor is arriving late tomorrow evening, well after curfew.”

Neville nodded. “I see. And you still won’t tell me who it is?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t get to plan many surprises, so I’m enjoying this one. The rest of you will have to wait until breakfast on the second of September to find out,” Minerva said with a laugh. 

Neville smiled. “It’s all right, Pr- Minerva. I can wait.”

“Neville, may I ask why you are so intent to know who it is?”

Neville blushed. “I’m sorry… Minerva. I know I’ve been badgering you a bit about this, ever since Padma left.”

Minerva smirked. “A bit?”

“Maybe a bit more than a bit. It’s just, with this new law, I’m kind of hopeful that it’s someone I could… well… now that Hannah and I–”

“Well, Neville, the new professor will be here tomorrow, and your wait will be over.”

“Yes, Headmistress.”

“I understand why you’re anxious about this law, Neville. All the staff are sympathetic to your position. It can’t be easy to be the only single adult in the castle.” She patted his arm, “Everything will work out, my boy. I just  _know_  it.”

<•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•>

 

The next morning, the castle was humming in preparation of the children’s anticipated arrival that evening. Hagrid was checking the boats, the kitchen house-elves were cooking all the traditional Welcome Feast dishes, and the faculty were checking rosters and class schedules, with the Heads of House ensuring none of the students in their Houses had any time conflicts. 

The day flew by for Neville, and soon he found himself going to the Great Hall to welcome the returning students and wait for the new first years. He took his seat to the left of Minerva’s place, as usual. The other faculty members were also seating themselves. Minerva was the last to arrive, just before Professor Flitwick led the new students to the front of the Hall to be sorted. 

The Sorting took much longer than he remembered from previous years, and Neville found himself impatient to find out who would be completing the staff, even though he knew he probably wouldn’t know until breakfast. 

When the students were dismissed, Neville went back to his quarters. He took a shower and went to bed in anticipation of the insanity of the first day of classes. He also wanted to be up early to see if he could find out who the new staff member would be – and if he or she would need any assistance acclimating to Hogwarts; much to his chagrin, Minerva wouldn’t even tell him if the new professor had ever set foot in the castle.

He entered the Great Hall through the staff entrance at a quick pace. The Great Hall was buzzing with a bit more chatter than usual – even for the first day of term. Halfway to his customary seat, he stopped dead in his tracks. Although she was turned away from him, he’d know those chestnut curls and that voice anywhere. 

_“Hermione?”_

She spun around in her seat, mid-sentence, and when she saw him, she launched herself at him in a big hug, leaving Severus Snape behind, muttering about sentimental Gryffindors. 

“Hermione – are  _you_  the new Transfiguration professor?”

Hermione gave a huge grin. “I am indeed! I’m so excited! Look at us, Neville, the two youngest instructional staff since, well, since Professor Snape.” 

“That’s excellent! I’m so glad to see you – Harry and Ron will be so jealous that I got to see you before they did.” Neville chuckled. “I might have to send them a note on my first break of the day.”

“Have you got your schedule already? I haven’t got mine, and I need to know what to expect.” 

Severus interrupted them. “What to  _expect_? You  _know_  what to expect – first years are overeager, second years are still interested, third and fourth years think they know everything, fifth years are in fear of their O.W.L. exams, sixth years are lusty little buggers who no longer have to take the  _required_  courses and find themselves with entirely too much free time on their randy little hands, and seventh years are even  _hornier_  little buggers who are studying only just enough to pass a bloody  _test_  instead of trying to truly  _learn_  the material. There! You’re all ready.”

Hermione and Neville both looked at their colleague, gobsmacked, until Hermione burst out laughing. Neville laughed with her while Severus smirked, eyebrow raised. She finally regained enough composure to gasp, “Professor Snape, I’ve missed you so!” She burst into another bout of laughter, then continued, “But… you’re absolutely right. What was I  _thinking_ , taking this job?”

Neville chuckled and replied, “Because you love imparting knowledge. You’ll be brilliant.” 

Hermione’s face softened a bit. “Thanks, Neville. Now, come on, I’m famished! Let’s have a seat.”

The two took the chairs on either side of the Potions professor and commenced eating their breakfast. It didn’t take long for Neville to realize what was causing the commotion in the hall: many of the students were pointing and whispering. If his assumption was correct, they were quite excited to see yet another hero of the war on staff. 

Soon, the Headmistress arrived and took her seat beside Hermione. “Professor Granger, I have your teaching schedule and student rosters for you. Your first lesson will be with the second-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.”

Hermione nodded, accepting the timetable and class rosters. “Thank you, Headmistress.” 

Before Minerva could correct her and ask her to use her given name, a parliament of owls entered the Great Hall, delivering letters to the oldest students and some of the faculty. For the second time that day, Hermione was shocked into silence as an owl landed before her, offering its leg. She removed the letter from the jesses and the owl took off. Turning the letter over, she saw the Ministry seal. 

“Why would the Ministry be owling me? I’ve only just been back in the country a few hours.”

Neville looked at her, holding a similar missive in his hand, wincing. “So, you didn’t get to see the Prophet yesterday?”

“No. Why, should I have?”

Neville partially retreated behind Professor Snape. “I suppose the letter will be mostly self-explanatory,” he said. He slit the seal and opened his own letter, reading it carefully. On his other side, Professor Sinistra started asking questions about its contents.

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “It might be self-explanatory, but I highly doubt it’ll be  _good_.”

Severus snorted into his pumpkin juice, avoiding the conversation.

“Nothing to be done, then, but to…” and she slit open her own letter with her knife. She skimmed the text quickly and dropped the knife with a clatter. “No. They can’t. Can they?” She looked at Professor Snape, panicked. “Can they  _do_  this?”

“I am sorry, Professor Granger, but it seems that they  _can_ , and they  _have_. It’s not without precedent, evidently.”

“But… this…” she waved the letter in front of him, and he snatched it from her hand, reading it: 

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_As a member of the Magical Community of Great Britain, I'm sure you are aware of the tragic loss of life we sustained in the last war. In the years since, it has come to our attention that drastic measures must be taken to avoid extinction and ensure the long-term survival of the Community. Without this intervention, our population will fall below critical mass required to survive more than one hundred years._

_The Wizengamot has discussed all the options in great detail, and many proposed solutions were put forward. In the interest of full disclosure, some of the options were dismissed as too draconian, but the final solution that was approved by the majority was the_  Marriage and Repopulation Law,  _requiring that all British witches and wizards between the ages of twenty and forty-five, inclusive, will be required to marry and reproduce; having a minimum of two children per marital union within five years of the marriage rites._

_The requirements of these unions are simple:_

  

  1.   
_Your choice of spouse must be registered with the Ministry within the next sixty (60) days. Your choice must be validated by the Office of Marriage and Repopulation._  
  

  

  2.   
_As we are striving toward a blending of blood lines as part of the move toward increasing our numbers, you are strongly encouraged to marry someone of a different blood status from yourself. To that end, purebloods seeking to marry other purebloods must prove that they are not close blood relatives prior to being approved. "Close blood relatives" are defined as second cousins or closer. In addition, Muggle-borns are strongly encouraged to marry purebloods or half-bloods._  
  

  

  3.   
_You must be bound in a magical marital union within three (3) months, and proof of consummation must be supplied within forty-eight (48) hours after the binding ceremony is performed. Consummation will be proven via a Charm applied as part of the marriage rites._  
  

  

  4.   
_As half of the intent of the law is to increase the population of Magical Great Britain, you and your spouse are expected to have no less than three children._  

  



_There are only two exemptions from the procreation component of the Law: infertility or homosexuality.  
_

  

  1. _If you believe you should be exempted due to infertility, you must go to the St. Mungo's Department of Reproductive Healing for an official_  Certification of Infertility  _within the next thirty (30) days, which they will forward directly to the Office of Marriage and Repopulation. If you are exempt due to infertility, you are permitted to marry, but must choose from the wizards or witches who have been certified as infertile by St. Mungo's._
  

  2.   
_We are not unsympathetic to those who prefer the company of their own gender. However, we will not permit heterosexual witches or wizards to attempt to circumvent this law by claiming homosexuality. Therefore, if you are requesting an exemption on the basis of homosexuality, we will require you be bound in a magical marital union with a partner of your own gender within three (3) months and proof of consummation must be supplied within forty-eight (48) hours after the binding ceremony is performed. Consummation will be proven via a Charm applied as part of the marriage rites._  

  



_Note that any pre-existing marriage contracts must be approved by the Office of Marriage and Repopulation prior to the binding ceremony. If the match does not meet the criteria set forth in this missive, the contract will be declared null and void, and both witch and wizard will need to secure another partner in accordance with the edict._  


_Failure to comply with this law at any stage will result in arrest by Aurors or Hit Wizards.  
_

  

  1.   
_If you fail to register, you will be held in a Ministry holding cell for up to one month (30 days) while a suitable spouse is procured for you from among other scofflaws._  

  

  2.   
_If you fail to marry, you and your intended spouse will be detained and bound in marriage immediately._  

  

  3. _If the Office of Marriage and Repopulation does not receive notification of consummation within forty-eight (48) hours of your marriage, you and your spouse will become_  Guests of the Ministry _until the union is consummated. If necessary, potions will be employed._
  



_We wish you well in your search for a husband._

_Sincerely,  
Sally-Anne Perks_

“Professor Snape, why didn’t you receive a letter?”

“I am – thankfully – exempt from the law. There are benefits to growing older, after all.”

“But… don’t you want to find someone?”

“Professor Granger, whether I wish to  _find someone_  or not is not something I wish to discuss,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “However, if I choose to marry, it will be on my own schedule.”

“I apologize. You’re right. It’s none of my business. I’m just… I wasn’t ready for this.”

“Neither was Professor Longbottom. He and Hannah Abbott just parted company two weeks ago,” Minerva whispered conspiratorially. “Perhaps you might make a match with him?”

Hermione’s head whipped around. “Neville?” She whispered furiously, “Are you serious? I mean, he’s a nice enough bloke, and we’ve been friends since before I even  _met_  Harry or Ron, and he’s grown up to be rather attractive… but…  _Neville?”_

The Headmistress pursed her lips. “Consider it, my dear. I believe all of your other male friends are married, engaged, or Muggle-born… or homosexual. Just because a marriage is not a love match does not mean it is loveless, Hermione. You’ll have to find someone, and there is the practicality of proximity.”

Hermione gave an immature huff. “And I’m nothing if not  _practical? Good old_  Hermione.  _Practical_  Hermione.  _Barely-a-girl_  Hermione.”

Hermione ignored the snort from Professor Snape, not wishing to contemplate what he’d found humorous. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I want to be sure my classroom is in order. Good morning.”

<•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•>

 

Over the course of the next few days, Hermione spent a good deal of effort to  _not_  be alone with either Minerva or Neville. She spent those days watching and listening. She wanted to know what kind of man Neville Longbottom had grown up to be. He’d always been a very good friend, and by the time they had returned to Hogwarts after the war in order to finish their seventh year, he’d become a hero; a recipient of an Order of Merlin, Second Class, for everything he’d done in his first attempt at a seventh year and for killing Nagini, paving the way for Harry’s victory. 

By their final year at Hogwarts, he’d also grown taller, and his baby fat had seemed to have melted and re-formed into a muscular build that was very useful in the greenhouses… and  _very_  admired in the girls’ dormitory. 

However, he had also retained some of his bumbling awkwardness, and while it was adorable and endearing in a friend, Hermione wasn’t certain it was something she could live with in a husband.

At some point during the second week of classes, Neville cornered her in her recently vacated classroom. 

“Hermione, can we chat?” 

“Sure, Neville. What’s on your mind?” she asked, a bit too brightly.

He sighed, and ran a nervous hand over the back of his neck; an action strongly reminiscent of shared Potions lessons long-since past. “The bloody marriage law.”

“Of course. So…”

Neville hesitated. “So, here’s the thing, Hermione: the two of us are the only staff members who are affected by the law.” He licked his lips, “I don’t know about you, but my only options, really, are to choose you – or a student.” He visibly shuddered.

He continued, “I know we haven’t had a chance to talk about personal things yet, but Hannah and I – we didn’t break up because we didn’t get along, or because we’d had a row. We broke up because it didn’t make sense to try to maintain a relationship with me at Hogwarts and her in Diagon Alley for most of the year. When the law was announced, she owled me a note, asking if we should stay broken up, and I told her I thought we should. 

“If we didn’t make sense before the law was passed, we don’t make sense now, and even if I don’t have much choice in the matter, I want to be happy, and we weren’t happy. We were miserable… always feeling torn between London and Scotland from September through June. It was no way to live, and neither of us was willing to give up our chosen career for the other.  _That_  was telling, in and of itself.”

Hermione nodded. “I imagine it would be.”

“Look, Hermione, I know I’m not your dream wizard, but I’m a decent bloke. I respect you, and we’ve been friends ever since that trip on the train, first year.” He smiled softly at her. “We might not have grand passion, but I think we have more than many people who are being affected by this law.”

Hermione looked at him. “But, Neville, an arranged marriage? Who  _does_  that nowadays?”

“Actually, it wasn’t even terribly uncommon before the law was passed.” Neville shrugged. “The vast majority of the purebloods from our class who are already married were married through a contract. Most of the ones who aren’t married are under betrothal contracts. Even Greg Goyle.”

“But, doesn’t this law nullify the contracts?” Hermione asked, wishing she’d taken more time to learn about pureblooded Wizarding culture. “Ugh, why do they offer Muggle Studies to purebloods, but not Wizarding Studies for Muggle-borns?” she muttered.

“The law doesn’t necessarily nullify any existing contracts. Remember, they just have to prove that they’re not close blood relatives, and the contracts will go forward. 

“Look, Hermione, my parents’ marriage was arranged, and they were so  _very_  happy. Well… until…” He shook himself. “My Gran also had an arranged marriage.”

“So why wasn’t a contract made for you?”

She thought she saw a flash of hurt across Neville’s face, which began to stir her protective nature. 

“Unfortunately, my Gran being who she is, too many people heard that she thought I might be a Squib when I was a baby, and no one wanted to obligate their daughter to marry a Squib; they all wanted guaranteed magical babies, which is the whole purpose behind the marriage contracts in the first place. By the time I had manifested any magic, most of the eligible pureblood girls who could be matched with me were already spoken for. Add to that the fact that my parents were Aurors, and considered Blood Traitors by most, and the pool of potential brides pretty much evaporated. Gran told me not to worry – to just find someone who made me happy.”

“Oh, Neville. You deserve to be happy. We both do.”

“Hermione, most purebloods believe that just because a marriage is not a love match does not mean it is loveless. Consideration turns to respect, respect turns to admiration, and admiration turns to love. I wish you would consider this.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Neville walked away, not pressing the issue further, and Hermione was deep in thought, watching her dear, bumbly friend retreat, wondering if she could or should consider his suggestion. 

<•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•><•>

 

Neville didn’t mention the Law to Hermione again for two full weeks. In fact, they barely spoke in that whole time. 

Hermione spent that time thinking and watching Neville… and considering her options. 

She came to a conclusion: he was right – they both had to marry; the only question was  _whom_  they would marry. The two of them were the only staff members affected by the law; if they wished to remain working at Hogwarts, they would have to either marry each other, or meet and marry partners who wouldn’t mind relocating to Hogwarts. An alternative would be to marry students who would not mind remaining at Hogwarts after they completed their studies. This option was entirely unsuitable, as the idea of marriage to a  _boy_  several years her junior was off-putting, at best.

While Hermione knew that Minerva and Neville were right, she was struggling with the concept of how to reconcile herself to marriage to  _Neville Longbottom_  without shortchanging either herself or Neville – they  _both_  deserved to be truly happy, after everything they’d been through. 

She sighed, and then realized with annoyance that she’d been sighing quite a bit of late. Checking her watch, she realized that it wasn’t too terribly late and decided to make a walk down to Neville’s quarters before she lost her nerve. She paused before the door to his rooms, took a steadying breath, and knocked. 

After a moment, the door swung open, and Neville began to speak. “How can I -”

His words were cut off with a surprised  _“Oof!”_  as Hermione hastily grasped the front of his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. 

His stunned gaze met her smiling eyes, then he realized what was happening and he began to return the kiss. To Hermione’s surprise, he wrapped his arms around her torso. After a moment, one hand slid up her back and cradled the back of her head. The kiss became more heated as Neville prodded the seam of Hermione’s mouth with his tongue and one hand drifted down to cup her arse. 

When she gasped at this daring move, he took the opportunity to plunder her mouth. His tongue stroked hers in a sensuous dance. He pulled back slightly, and nibbled on her lower lip. 

As the kiss ended, he rested his forehead gently against hers. “Good evening, Hermione. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Hermione took a steadying breath. “I’m sorry, Neville. I just… I had to test and see if there was any chemistry.”

“Is there?”

“There certainly seems to be.”

“Why don’t you come in, and we can talk.”

Neville stepped aside and she entered his rooms. They sat together on the divan, and Hermione looked intently into his eyes.

“Do you want to tell me what sort of test we just took?”

She laughed nervously as she pulled away slightly. “I really am sorry, Neville. It’s just… I know you’re right; there really aren’t many other options for either of us, but at the same time, I hate feeling pressured – like I have no choices. You deserve to be happy, and to find someone who’s over the moon about marrying you – not someone who’s doing it because it’s convenient.”

“You deserve the same, you know,” Neville said, gently. 

She nodded. “I know. It’s just… we don’t have a choice – not really – and so, maybe we can try to be over the moon about each other?”

Neville’s face split into a wide grin. “That sounds like the perfect plan.” He paused. “Hermione, you were my first friend at Hogwarts, and I’ve never forgotten how you tried to help me find Trevor.”

“Ugh, a bushy-haired, buck-toothed, bossy Muggle-born to the rescue,” she said, remembering the day. “I was  _awful_.” 

Neville considered her, his expression contemplative. “No, you weren’t. You were helpful and caring, and you were willing to go out of your way to give a hand to an awkward boy who was frightened about where his familiar had gone off to, and I’ve never forgotten that kindness.”

“Oh, Neville. Thank you. I’ve always thought back to that train ride and wondered what sort of first impression I must have made.”

He smiled at her, and reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. As he withdrew his hand, he gently brushed his knuckles along her cheek in a tender caress. “I always wondered the same. You see, I was the chubby, awkward boy who’d lost a  _toad_. I knew that toads weren’t fashionable familiars, but Gran didn’t, and if I lost him before I even got to the castle… you saved me from her ire, and I always remembered that.”

Hermione returned his smile. “Funny how we were both so insecure.”

“I reckon we may have more in common than we might have first thought.”

“We might just.”

Neville startled Hermione by taking her hand in his. She was so shocked that her head whipped around to look at him, but he just smiled at her, seemingly completely nonchalant. After a moment, when her astonishment subsided, she thought about the feel of his hand in hers. 

His hand was warm, dry, and callused. It was definitely a  _man’s_  hand. This thought gave her pause. 

A man’s hand. This wasn’t just her chubby old third- or fourth-choice friend… this wasn’t the  _boy_  she’d Petrified in first year. This was a man who was the sum total of  _everything_  he’d been through, as she was more than that buck-toothed bossy girl she’d been all those years ago. 

Since she’d met him, Neville had been emotionally and physically hurt, insulted, doubted, as well as severely underestimated time and again. He’d been tested many times, and had proven himself to be a strong wizard. He hadn’t allowed himself to be intimidated… not even by herself, and she’d intimidated her fair share of wizards and witches. She made another decision, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, which prompted him to look at her. 

“Neville, I’ve thought long and hard.” She swallowed, her nerves roiling. His gaze didn’t waver or falter, but his thumb gently caressed the back of her hand reassuringly. She took a deep breath and smiled. “I think we’d be okay.”

Neville looked at her. “You sure?”

Decision made and all doubts banished, the smile she gave was positively radiant. “Absolutely.”

His answering smile was equally brilliant. “I’d hoped you would make that decision.” He surprised her by levering himself off the divan and kneeling in front of her, holding each of her hands in his, his gaze intent. “Hermione Granger, maybe this ‘romance’ of ours didn’t have a conventional start, but what about us  _is_  conventional? The two of us, unlikely heroes… you, the bookish third of the Golden Trio and me, Slayer of Nagini and Substitute Leader of the DA. But I think we make sense. We both did what had to be done, and we both strive for excellence in our chosen fields. 

“I could never be with someone I didn’t like or didn’t respect, and I know the same is true for you. You were my first friend at Hogwarts, and I have always been thankful for your friendship. That friendship… that trust… that respect can and will carry us through and I  _know_  it will grow into romantic love, because I already love you dearly. This marriage may be starting from a place of practicality, but I promise you, it will not remain there. I will spend my life learning to love you properly, and I ask you now if you would do me the honour of becoming my wife.” 

Hermione’s voice caught in her throat. “I… Oh, Neville.” She slid to her knees, as well. “I love you dearly, too, and I promise I will spend the rest of  _my_  life learning to love you properly. It would be my honour to become your wife.”

As she spoke the words, a wisp of magic wove itself around them, sealing the promises they had made as binding vows. Neither of them noticed, because as soon as the words left her mouth, Neville leaned forward and kissed her softly. 

When Neville started to pull away, Hermione grasped the back of his neck with both hands, holding him in place. After a brief murmur of surprise, Neville changed the angle of the kiss and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. His other arm encircled her waist, his hand splaying on her lower back. 

Hermione was amazed at the skill with which Neville kissed. It was just the right amount of moist, with a pleasant dance of tongues that didn’t leave her feeling gagged, and, oh – when he sucked on her lower lip, she was sure her hips bucked. 

When she heard his soft chuckle, she knew they  _had_  bucked. 

She pulled back slightly, her nose still brushing his cheek, caressing him as she spoke. “God, Neville… you can  _kiss_.” She started playing with the hair at the collar of his shirt. 

She felt his cheek crinkle into a smile. “So can you, Hermione.” 

He reached up and caressed her cheek, encouraging her to look him in the eye. “We’ll be okay, you and me. I promise.”

The sincerity in his face and the earnestness of his words melted the last tiny fragments of doubt in her heart. “I know, Neville. I trust you. Kiss me?” 

His grin turned wolfish. “Gladly.” This time, he wasn’t caught off-guard and the kiss curled Hermione’s toes. His hand returned to her lower back, and slowly moved to cup and squeeze her arse. To her surprise, Hermione hummed in pleasure. Her reaction seemed to embolden him further, as he slid his other hand around to cup her breast. When he rubbed his thumb over her clothed nipple, she gasped.

He inserted one leg between hers and pressed against her bottom, guiding her into position to ride his thigh. She was so turned on by this point, that she did so, shamelessly. As she rocked against his leg, he continued teasing her breast, and her need for release increased beyond coherent thought. 

After a few minutes, she threw her head back and her whole body bowed in tension. Neville slid his hand up from her backside to support her shoulders as she shuddered in orgasm. 

When her body relaxed, he gathered her close to his chest in a tender embrace. 

When she realized what had happened, her eyes grew large as saucers, and she looked up into his face, a crimson blush stealing across her face. “Oh  _God_. Neville. I’m so–”

“No… don’t apologize. That was  _beautiful_.”

“Neville–”

“Hermione, I know this is all quite sudden, but don’t you think we should get used to this part of a relationship? We are going to be married within the month, after all.”

Hermione sat back on her heels, her breathing beginning to steady. “Yes, you’re right. It is why I came down here, after all.”

At this, Neville’s eyes widened. “It  _is_?”

“Well, maybe I didn’t have  _quite_  that image in mind, but as I told you, I wanted to see if we had a physical chemistry.”

“And…”

“I think we just proved that we do.”

“Me, too.”

“There’s just one small thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, we know part of the equation. We don’t know the rest.”

“The rest? Hermione, I’m not following.”

This time, it was Hermione’s grin that turned predatory. She grasped the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet as she stood. Without releasing him, she walked through the room towards what had to be the hallway, only partially dragging him behind her. 

Just as in her quarters, there were three doors down the hallway. Thankfully, they were all open. The first door on the right was clearly the study. The door opposite it was the loo, which meant the third door was his bedroom. She took a steadying breath as she pulled him toward the bedroom. 

“Hermione, we don’t have to–”

“Neville, there’s ‘have to’ and then there’s ‘want to’. While I had  _some_  fun in the lounge, I find myself still curious and wanting more. Do you not want to?”

“Oh, God, yes, I want to!”

“ Good,” Hermione said as she began to unbutton his shirt. She pulled the tails from his trousers and tried to shove it off his shoulders, forgetting to unfasten the cuffs. They both laughed a little nervously, as she remedied the situation. 

“The years have been good to you,” she said, as she slid her hands over the planes of his chest, rubbing her thumbs over his nipples, being rewarded with a sharp inhalation. “Sensitive nipples, Neville? I’ll have to remember that.”

She stopped exploring his chest to unbuckle his belt and open his trousers. Neville reached behind him for the post of the bed to steady himself as Hermione pulled them down. He stepped out of them as she grasped the waistband of his pants, pulling it out and over his already hardening cock. 

She looked up into his eyes, surprised at how dark they seemed. “Neville, have you ever–”

“I’m not a virgin. Are you?”

She smiled and wrapped her hand around his nicely shaped penis, glad that he would probably last long enough to have fun. “No. I haven’t had many lovers, but I’m not a virgin, either.”

“Good.” Neville quickly took control, removing her clothes much more rapidly than she had removed his. 

She was soon overwhelmed by the feeling of rough, callused hands running over her bare skin and the resultant warmth that pooled low in her belly. When he palmed her breast, she nearly swooned. Instead, she once more grasped the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss with one hand as she fondled his bollocks with the other. 

He gasped as he kissed her, but gently removed her hand from his bits and turned her around so he could back her up to the bed. As soon as she felt the backs of her thighs hit the mattress, he swept her off her feet and deposited her on the bed. She shimmied over to make room for him, and the bed dipped beside her as he sat down and looked at her. 

“Hermione, you’re… bloody gorgeous.”

She ducked her head, smiling. “Thanks, Neville. So are you.”

They both laughed at the situation and their declarations. Tensions eased, Neville leaned down and kissed her again. As the kiss heated up, he reached over and grasped her breast. Hermione hummed her appreciation and she slid her hands up his chest, scraping his nipples with her fingernails, and then boldly ran her hands over his shoulders, pulling him close. 

“Are you sure, Hermione?”

“God, yes.  _Please!_ ”

Neville slid his hand to her quim, brushing his fingers through her folds. “Merlin, you’re so wet. Fucking amazing.”

Hermione canted her hips, desperate for greater contact. “Ugh, stop  _teasing_.”

“Do you  _want_  me, Hermione?”

She huffed in irritation. “What do you think, Neville?” She bit her lip, but he leaned in and kissed her, sucking her lip from between her teeth.

Before she could complain again, Neville shifted his position, nestling his hips over hers. She resumed rocking her hips, desperate for friction, but he steadied her motion. “If you don’t stop, I might come before we even get started,” his voice full of teasing mirth.

“So let’s get started, then!” 

“Mmmmm. So bossy.  _Demanding_. I love it.”

He reached between them, grasping his cock, and ran the head through her folds, collecting her slick arousal on it. Looking into her hooded eyes, he plunged into her for the first time. They both gasped, and Hermione’s back bowed in pleasure as he took her, her nails drawing dark red welts on his shoulders. 

“Witch! You’re so  _tight!_ ”

Hermione impatiently twitched her hips, causing Neville to gasp. She smiled and slid her hands from his shoulders down his back and firmly grasped his arse, digging her nails in his flesh. 

Neville then drew his hips back and thrust, starting a rhythm. 

“Yes, Neville, oh…  _Yes!_ ”

Neville grunted his appreciation, as Hermione continued to chant words of praise. 

She was surprised when she felt the first fluttering of her orgasm. “Oh God, yes. Right there.  _Harder!_ ”

“ _Harder?_ Woman, what do you take me for?” Neville asked with a bit of frustrated incredulity, as he started slamming into her harder, despite his protestations. He slid one large hand under her hips, changing the angle of his entry. Hermione saw stars, and started to roll her hips in time with his thrusts, rubbing her needy clit against his body. 

She felt her orgasm coiling tightly in her womb, and with one particularly strong thrust, she felt as if she exploded, her canal clamping on his cock as she shuddered. 

When he felt her body clutching at his member, Neville lost all sense of rhythm and soon came with a shout. His arms collapsed, and he landed on Hermione for a moment, but wrapped his arms around her and rolled over, so she would rest on top of him. As he caught his breath, he caressed her back with one hand as he held her tightly. 

“That was–”

“ _Incredible_.”

They both laughed, albeit a bit breathlessly. Hermione kissed his chest in a tender show of emotion. “I think we’ll be okay, Neville.” 

She looked up into his eyes and smiled at her friend, confident that they would, indeed, be able to be happy and content together.

  


_Finite Incantatem_


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